“You have more to give”

I used to be an athlete. And I was a decent one. Not the strongest, not the most dedicated, not the best. But I was pretty good. I was a collegiate rower. I made the first boat. I was elected captain by my teammates. I medaled in the Head of the Charles once. Being an athlete was a major part of my identity. And yesterday I got to go back in time and get a little glimpse of the me that used to be.

It has been a long time since I’ve rowed competitively. I worked as a crew coach for more than five years, but during that time I rarely got in a boat myself. Yesterday I found myself sweaty and sore with blistered hands and wearing a river-water soaked uniform from my college days. I knew the day would present a physical challenge, but I didn’t expect it to give me perspective on my current life. My mommy identity.

In the sport of rowing there is a crew that consists of the rowers and, often, a coxswain, whose job it is to steer and to instruct the crew and keep them informed and motivated. And yesterday, V, while you were getting us down that race course, you said it: “You have more to give.” I heard you. Not to get all emotional and deep, but it’s true. I do. We do. Every single one of us in that boat probably did. Physically, mentally, emotionally. At that very point in time when we were trying to hold off a boat. And in other ways. In our daily lives. And that’s where the remark hits home for me right now.

Life has been tough these past few weeks. Lots of major adjustments. Lots of unexpected hurdles to overcome. Near-constant stress. Just getting to the race yesterday was stressful because I had to borrow a car. And then, I had to rush out as soon as we got back on land so that I could get home and take over the kids so that J could get to work.

As a mother there is no end to the to-dos. Fixing a meal. Filling out a school form. Keeping up with the bottomless pile of laundry. Scheduling a doctor’s appointment. And on and on and on. There is always more to do. And because things need to be done, I have to give more. And it seems like such a drain sometimes, that MORE.

In a regatta, it’s a little simpler. For three miles yesterday there was always another stroke to take. A stroke exactly like the one that preceded it and the one that would come next. The uniformity and rhythm of crew is like a sedative for me. In all of the hard work, in the grunting and the sweating and the skin lost on the oar handle, I was calm. Because I was focused. Because I knew what had to be done next. Because I had no choice but to just do it. I had to give more, and it was a physical drain, but I WANTED to find more within myself. I volunteered to row in this race. I couldn’t blame anyone else for my being there or for what had to come next. Just row. That’s all I had to do. And the simplicity of it and the reward for the hard work are enough for me to sign up for the next opportunity.

There are lots of ways in which rowing can be compared to life in general, parenting in particular. The unique we’re-all-in-this-together aspects of the sport–a boat cannot launch without all seats filled–for instance. But for now, I’d just like to thank Janel and Didi, KT and Ellie, Jenna, Katie and Deleo. And V. For choosing to race yesterday. For committing to it. For having fun. It was a bit of a flash back for me, and it helped me find again the perspective that I needed to realize that this all-consuming mothering life of mine IS what I chose. That I AM decent at it. I know I’m not going to earn a medal, and I know that there will be some blood, sweat and tears (ahem, daily) but it’s all worth it in the end. And the finish line comes much too soon. It really does.